by V. K. Sykes
As play continued and her stake grew, an unfamiliar and exciting energy rippled through her body, making her hands tingle and setting her nerves on edge. Taking a slow, deep breath, she reminded herself that she was already more than fifteen hundred dollars to the good. Unless she got a particularly vile run of luck, she’d end up a few hundred ahead for the evening, at worst.
But her hot streak didn’t quit. When her first two cards were a seven and a four, she doubled down against the dealer’s five. With a ten in the hole, the dealer dealt himself a nine and busted. Sadie had to bite down on her lip to keep from shrieking with excitement.
The next few hours flew by in a whirl of chips, cards, and one or two more mojitos. When it was time to go back to the room to meet Cassie and change for the nightclub, she’d raked in nearly three thousand dollars. As she cashed out, a powerful rush roared through her body, sending all her senses into overload. It felt so damn good she could hardly catch her breath. If she hadn’t made a commitment to her friend, she would have stayed at the table until dawn, or whatever passed for dawn in that perpetual indoor twilight. But she couldn’t disappoint her pal. Cassie had carried on all day about how she couldn’t wait to check out the hotel’s new nightclub, Esprit.
Trying to play until dawn would have been risky business, anyway. If she’d hung in much longer, she had to believe the pit boss would have fingered her for counting cards. As it was, she’d already had more scrutiny than any other player at her tables. She gave a ghost of a laugh. Sadie Bligh. Vegas card counter!
Pushing her way through the crowd to the elevator, she struggled to analyze the unfamiliar emotions she’d felt all night—the highs and lows, and the thrill of having a stack of chips in front of her that the other players eyed in envy. Even the sense of danger when she fell under the scrutiny of the pit boss had been kind of exciting. It all made her feel so…alive. Not once tonight had the Eagleton Prize intruded into her concentration. Not once had she worried about the gaping hole the loss of that prize had blasted into her career plans.
She chuckled softly as she hurried down the hall to her room. For almost four hours, she’d even managed—mostly—not to think about Nick Saxon. Given the impact he’d had on her senses, maybe that was the biggest miracle of all.
* * *
Midnight.
Nick clasped his hands and stretched his arms over his head as he glanced up at the old-fashioned stainless steel clock on the wall of the super high-tech security operations center. The nagging ache in his shoulder came back whenever he had to hunch over a keyboard for more than ten minutes. It was a reminder of the jagged piece of Humvee metal that had sliced into his right shoulder blade in Anbar province. But he’d been one of the lucky ones that day, something he tried never to forget.
It had taken him an hour to file his report on the latest case of employee theft at the Desert Oasis. He could just as easily have completed it in the morning, but he’d wanted to finish it tonight. A bartender at Connect, the hotel’s popular lobby lounge, had been arrested for theft. As assistant chief, it had been Nick’s responsibility to liaise with the city police, who had hauled the man away in handcuffs less than an hour ago.
Just another twelve-hour day in Sin City.
Fortunately, he’d been too busy all evening to focus on his uncharacteristic preoccupation with Sadie Bligh. But as he thought about heading home, the cute, clumsy babe popped through the door of his brain—almost as if she’d been leaning on the bell all night. That didn’t exactly surprise him. Before this case of theft had dropped onto his desk, he’d had every intention of tracking her down and trying to talk her into...what? A date? Something that would have ended up with them both in the prone position if he’d had anything to say about it.
He rose from his desk and grabbed his jacket as he considered his options. There was every chance that if he went back to his place now, he’d just lie awake thinking about her, anyway. That exercise in frustration would drive him crazy, so he gave in to the nagging voice telling him to go look for her. One pass through the casino and a quick look into Esprit and Energie, the hotel’s two dance clubs—that would be the extent of his search. If he hadn’t found her by then, he’d give it up for the night.
Nick strode quickly down each main aisle of the casino, scanning the rows of slots and gaming tables. As much as he tried to block it, an image of her dancing and laughing with that idiot from the pool swarmed into his head and latched on like a computer virus. It made him feel like a caveman stereotype, but if he actually saw the two of them together he’d run the guy off. Again. No way was anyone else getting near her if he could help it. At least not until he’d had his shot.
And Ms. Sadie Bligh deserved his best shot.
He’d have to be smart, though. Inside the hotel, he had to play it straight and cool. Outside the hotel…well, that was something else.
After striking out on the casino floor, Nick headed for the nightclubs. As usual, mostly young guests and bar-hoppers had jam-packed Esprit. Its glittering décor, high-tech sound and lighting, and celebrity clientele had made it one of the Strip’s more popular nightclubs. He slipped past the lineup outside the club’s door and headed straight to the glass-and-steel bar. Every one of the bar stools had a well-toned ass perched on it, but he wasn’t there to sit and nurse a drink, anyway.
Maria, an Italian-born stunner who worked tending bar, gave him a warm smile, full of its usual sexy mystery. As he checked out the tantalizing way she filled her tight, black Esprit tee shirt, he pondered the good fortune of her husband, a Vegas firefighter.
“Working late again, Nick?” she asked.
“What else is new, beautiful?” He gave her a slight smile but let the small talk go at that. “Maria, I could use your help. I know you see too many people pass through here to remember individuals. But maybe you can recall a couple of women I’m looking for? Both are around thirty or so, good-looking. Not Vegas regulars. The taller one is thin with long, straight blond hair—”
Maria interrupted him, laughing. “That covers at least half the women in this place.”
“Exactly why I need your help,” he said. “You’re more likely to remember the shorter one, anyway. Curly hair, reddish brown, pretty face with a smallish nose. Amazing body—you know, great curves in all the right places. And she might be having some trouble walking if she’s wearing high heels.”
“O—kay.” Maria nodded. “Those two came in a while ago. But it was the blonde who could hardly stand up. She was totally loaded. The short one looked reasonably sober—at least by comparison.” She stood on her tiptoes and scanned the room. “Actually, I see her, right over there.” She pointed to a spot near the middle of the dance floor, maybe fifty feet from the bar. “That’s her dancing with the tall guy in the white shirt that’s unfortunately open to his belly button.”
Nick followed the direction of Maria’s outstretched finger until he caught a glimpse of Sadie between the undulating bodies. Partly hidden by her partner’s bulk, she had her back to Nick but he had no doubt it was her. The floor could have been twice as crowded, but he still would have recognized her. The shape of her body and the turn of her head seemed to be burned into his brain.
He let out a disbelieving laugh. God, she was dancing like she was loaded up on speed. He craned his neck to grab a look at her feet. Smart—she’d picked sensible shoes tonight. At least she stood a decent chance of not killing herself, although the way she was flinging her arms about certainly endangered the guy she was dancing with.
The pounding music had already started Nick on a headache, but to Sadie it seemed to be a high voltage line directly tapped into her nervous system. He couldn’t believe the energy exploding from her. Her hair had given up any semblance of order, and flew wildly around her head. Damp ringlets dangled around her ears, and perspiration trickled down her brow. But he didn’t give a damn about how unruly her hair might be, nor, obviously, did her partner. Like Nick, the guy kept his eyes glued to the outrageou
sly sexy moves of her body. Sadie had sworn she’d been clumsy from birth, but you’d never know it by the way she danced. Some of her moves were barely legal, even in Vegas.
Nick frowned. Maybe his boss was right. Maybe she had been playing him with that clumsiness routine all along. Once again, not much was adding up when it came to her.
A flare of anger shot through him as he moved onto the dance floor. He ignored the mass of gyrating dancers, other than gently pushing away some drunken putz that backed into him. As he edged nearer Sadie, he got a full look at her twisting body through shifting gaps in the throng that separated them.
Her filmy dress covered just enough to forestall a morals charge. The soft, clingy fabric hugged her curves like a cherry-red skin, barely reaching past the tops of her pale thighs. A deep scoop in front exposed most of the fabulous breasts that threatened to jiggle their way out as her body swayed and rotated. As she spun away from her partner, the dope grinned, lunged, and grasped her hips. When he jammed his groin right up against her ass, Nick’s headache—and his temper—threatened to explode.
Damn. Sadie looked to be enjoying it, too. She whirled around to face her partner, whose flamboyant moves looked like he was auditioning for Dancing With The Fucking Stars. When she reached up and rested her hands on his shoulders, her dickhead partner clamped his hands over her hips again.
Giving into his instincts, Nick surged through the rest of the crowd, parting the jam like an icebreaker. Seeing him, Sadie froze, her soft green eyes going round and wide.
Nick wedged himself between her and Dickhead. “Ma’am, I’m going to have to ask you to come with me,” he said in a voice that brooked no other option.
“Oh hell, not again,” Sadie groaned. But the half-smile that turned up the corners of her pretty little mouth told Nick she wasn’t nearly as exasperated as she was trying to sound. “So, back to the gulag for me, is it, Sheriff?”
Dickhead stared at Nick with dopey bemusement. “Sheriff? What the hell’s that about?”
Nick swallowed a laugh. “Hotel security, sir. The lady is making a reference to an earlier criminal encounter. If you value your safety, you’ll pay no attention. In fact, consider yourself very fortunate that I intervened in time.”
The guy’s eyes bugged halfway out of his head. “You mean she’s dangerous?”
“You have no idea.” Nick wrapped his fingers around her upper arm, relishing the soft heat blazing beneath his fingertips. “Ms. Bligh, for your own good, I suggest you come quietly.”
“To the ends of the earth and beyond, Sheriff,” she purred in a voice laced with one too many mojitos. Again. Maybe Sadie Bligh was a bit of a wild child, after all.
Leaving her former partner with his mouth flapping open, Nick ushered her off the floor.
“Hey, wait a minute, okay?” She had to shout over the din. “I left my bag with Cassie. Let me get it and meet you outside.”
“Don’t even think about trying to give me the slip,” he growled.
She gave him an impish grin. “I would never flee a crime scene, Sheriff.”
Nick shook his head as he watched her skip away. He couldn’t wait to commit a few crimes himself.
* * *
Nick pulled Sadie into a corner outside Esprit—a tight corner he knew was beyond the sweep of the security cameras. “So, what was all that crap you gave me about being clumsy? You sure as hell weren’t clumsy on that dance floor.”
She gave an exasperated sigh. “Oh, for God’s sake. I wasn’t exactly dancing Swan Lake. How much coordination does it take to jump around and shake your ass?”
He suppressed a smile. “Yeah, well you looked pretty damn good at it to me.”
“Thanks, but you really must be an utter nightmare of a dancer yourself if you think I’m any good.”
He couldn’t help it. He had to laugh. The woman was the queen of the lightning fast comeback. He didn’t know what to believe when it came to Sadie Bligh. Who—or what—the hell was she, anyway? “It’s time we had another conversation, Ms. Bligh,” he said, forcing himself to glower at her.
“Well, if I say no, I’m sure you’re going to drag me off, anyway. So, you might as well lead me back to the gulag.”
“Actually, I was thinking of somewhere a little more comfortable than that.”
Her mouth opened, but for a moment no words emerged. For once she seemed at a loss for a quick retort.
“Like my favorite bar,” he said. “It’s only a few blocks from here.”
She tilted her head, pursing her lips as if she was working through some complicated math problem. “Good grief, Saxon, surely such a thing would violate not just hotel rules, but state, federal, and every other kind of law, wouldn’t it?”
“Call me Nick.” He glanced at his watch. “I’m on Nick time now, and in a second we’ll be off the hotel premises. Where I go then, and who I go there with, is my business. Period.”
She unleashed a smile, one so sweet and tempting he could almost taste it.
“In that case, very well. Lead on, Sheriff Nick.”
CHAPTER SIX
It had to be the darn mojitos again. As she gazed at Nick, no doubt looking like a moonstruck teenager, Sadie found herself contemplating crawling into his lap and wrapping her legs around his waist. That’s how turned on she was after his little intervention at the casino.
When he charged across the crowded dance floor of Esprit, he’d reminded her of a bull with a hapless matador dead in its sights. The guy she had been dancing with—if that’s what you could call what he’d been trying to do with her—had looked first astonished and then more than a little alarmed when he caught sight of Nick. Her partner hadn’t been wrong to see impending mayhem in the sheriff’s coal-black eyes. Maybe it had just been a caveman moment for Nick, but she’d loved it anyway. She’d have happily gone anywhere with the man then, even back to the dreaded gulag if that’s what it took to be alone with him.
They sat at a small table in a bar that might have been physically near the Strip, but was light years away from the glitz of Las Vegas Boulevard. With worn brown carpet on the floors, Michelob neon in the front window, and waitresses that might have been working Vegas since Bugsy Malone opened the Flamingo, it had a down-in-the-mouth charm that spelled relief after the Strip’s relentless glam. When Nick ordered a Bud, she’d made it two, even though she usually hated the taste and smell of beer. But not tonight. Tonight the cold brew tasted delicious.
Round five to the sheriff.
Smoothing the silky and slightly damp bodice of her dress down over her breasts, Sadie contemplated the best way to provoke a response in the strong but silent type leaning back in the chair next to her. Nick had hardly said a word on the ten minute drive from the Desert Oasis. Not that he’d ever been a fountain of words at any time they’d been together. He seemed more comfortable with interrogation than small talk. But that wasn’t a particular problem, since her father had always told her she could talk enough for any two human beings.
A little stab of pain sliced through her haze of pleasure. With effort, she forced away memories of her father, her job, and anything to do with her life back in Chicago. All she wanted to think about right now was Nick Saxon.
She gave him what she hoped was a sultry smile. “All I can say is you sure have a funny way of cutting in on a dance, Sheriff. My partner probably had to go back to his room and change his underwear.” To her surprise, her voice actually came out in a soft purr. Sadie had never purred at a man in her life.
He studied her, his face expressionless but his eyes gleaming hot. “Didn’t I tell you to call me Nick?” He slugged down the rest of his beer and gave the waitress a hand signal for refills.
She’d tried once or twice on the ride over to call him by his first name, but ‘ Nick’ and ‘Sadie’ registered a discordant note in her ears. She wondered how long it would take her to stop thinking of him as the sheriff or as Saxon. Nick was surely a manly name, but Saxon sounded so lustfully medieval. S
omehow, it seemed part and parcel of the fantasy this Vegas trip had become. “Sorry. Nick, it is. And you ducked my implied question.”
His mouth thinned in a way she was beginning to recognize. “I didn’t like the way he groped you,” he said in something approaching a growl.
That almost blew her concentration. Finally, the guy had let out some feelings. “But what made you think I didn’t welcome that poor man’s ardor? I told you, Cassie and I came to Vegas for the express purpose of having ourselves a riotously good time. I was well on my way tonight until you launched into the fray like a pit bull on steroids.”
He snorted. “Nice analogy. But did you really welcome what he was doing?” His gaze told her he didn’t believe a word of it.
Nick was right, of course. Still, she wasn’t giving up just yet. Teasing him was more fun than she’d had in a very long time.
She shrugged, enjoying the way the movement brought his gaze down to her breasts. “I might have. Maybe,” she said thoughtfully.
He tipped back in his chair, his eyebrows arching in polite disbelief.
“Well, not so much, truth be told,” she finally admitted. “He was pretty grabby.”
“That’s what I thought.” There was a trace of smugness in his tone. “You just like to yank my chain with all those quips and hundred-dollar words. I’ll bet it would drive you crazy to know I actually get a kick out of it.”
Wow. A guy who likes the way I talk. Prince Charming, where have you been all this time?
Sadie struggled to recover her poise. “Heavens, no. Not at all. Consider it my little contribution to local adult education, Saxon.”
“Jesus, will you drop the Saxon stuff?” It came out as a rumble, but his eyes were laughing. Did he really appreciate the odd sense of humor that had turned most guys off on the first date?
“So, Nick.” She paused for effect. “What exactly are we doing here—other than taking advantage of some excellent beer prices?”
